A Calculated Loss
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Ikkaku being dragged to shop is like fighting a war.


**Title: **A Calculated Loss  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Character/s: **Ikkaku, Yumichika, Mizuho  
**Word Count:** 771  
**Warning/s: **Spoilers for the early half of the post SS arc?  
**Summary:** Ikkaku being dragged to shop is like fighting a war.  
**Dedication:** Requested by whymetoday on my V-day and New Year's mini-fic thread! Also for Greg, because the Diesels line was inspired by the time we dressed him up. XD  
**A/N: **The prompt was "_shoe shopping_."

* * *

"Really, Ikkaku. You stop being so selfish! You can't be the only one who's always getting new clothes all the time. Especially during new years," Yumichika snickered tellingly, and Ikkaku would have punched the bastard right in the teeth for turning his own words against him (again) if he'd had a free hand to do it. 

"Below the belt!" he protested instead, which only gave cause for his friend to smirk even more wickedly.

"How so? You look so _adorable_ in pink," Yumi assured him with a fluttery laugh over his shoulder. "All the people who have seen it agree, and once I show those pictures to everyone at home, I'm sure they'll agree as well. You'll see."

"That's it! Carry your own damn bags! I don't have to take this shit!" Ikkaku snarled, and moved to thrust the armfuls and armfuls of boxes and totes he was being made to carry at the back of his friend's head. Being forced into slave labor like this was one thing, but being constantly reminded of the outfits Mizuho made him wear for their free room and board whenever he voiced even the _smallest_ complaint about Yumi not carrying his own damn shit was where Ikkaku drew the line.

But before he could pitch the day's purchases at the bastard, a hearty pat (swat) on the back sent him stumbling forward instead, killing his momentum almost instantly.

He turned and sighed—because there was only one person he knew of who had the gall to sneak up on a trained warrior and just _smack him_ like that.

Mizuho grinned back at him, eyes gleaming as she once again, returned from the bathroom (honestly, chicks went to the bathroom every _five seconds _or something). "Oi, don't be such a spoilsport!" she said, a bit loudly. "It's almost new years, and that means new clothes for everyone! Yumi'n I will make sure to pick you out something _extremely cute_ too, so don't worry, ne? You'll get your turn soon."

"Indeed," Yumi chirruped, helpfully. "Though if you're so adamant about making this _all about you _right now, I suppose Mizuho-chan and I could forget about our _own_ purchases for a bit and concentrate on getting _you_ stuff instead. I think I saw a _lovely_ pink bandanna two stores back that would go _just perfectly_ with your shirt."

Mizuho squealed at the prospect of coordinating. "Sounds fun!"

Yumi smirked. "Extremely! And that way, he can go ahead and put down our bags and we'll just _dress him up for the rest of the day_. Won't that be nice?"

"Oh my _god_, and wouldn't he look absolutely adorable in some stonewashed Diesels?"

Ikkaku stared at them both, and images of himself prancing around in low-rise jeans, sweater-vests, and pink-and-white bandannas flashed in his head like little clips from every one of his worst nightmares, all in a row.

It was in those moments that he came to accept the fact that in retrospect, he probably should have kept his mouth shut.

So quickly, he looked for a diversion.

Any diversion.

Because somehow—to his absolute horror— they had gotten to talking about _rhinestone-studded belt buckles._

"Shoes!" he blurted after a second, suddenly inspired. "Shoes!"

Mizuho blinked, pausing mid-coordinate. "Huh?"

"We should go find you two shoes!" Ikkaku suggested quickly, manically. "Uh, a new year deserves new shoes. Right?"

In all his years as Yumichika's best friend, never had he been able to fathom a more time-consuming detour than shoe-shopping. He only hoped it worked on psychotic fangirls as well as it did on malicious fruitcakes, because he was not wearing a rhinestone-studded low-rise _anything._ Ever.

Mizuho— happily— lit up at the prospect. "Shoes! We haven't looked at any yet today, have we?"

"No, not yet," Yumichika conceded, gracefully. Ikkaku breathed a sigh of relief at his friend's capitulation, because that meant at the very least, a small victory. His first all day.

In short, it meant he could continue to be their caddy and not their _mannequin._ Which, he supposed, was an option he would take _any day of the week_ given their combined tastes.

"Oh, some new sandals for spring are exactly what I need, too! Shall we go then, Yumi?"

The fifth seat beamed at their kind hostess. "Of course, Mizu-chan! It sounds fun!" he told her cheerfully. "And heavy," he couldn't help but add, with another one of those telling looks at Ikkaku.

A gentle reminder that winning the battle wasn't exactly the same as winning the war.

Absently, Yumichika wondered how Ikkaku would react once he realized that _shoes_ came in pink as well.

**END**


End file.
